I’m finally revisiting the characters from The River City Chronicles nine years after their original timeline. I’ll be running the series weekly here on my blog, and then will release it in book form at the end of the run. Hope you enjoy catching up with all your faves and all their new secrets!
Today, Marcos, Carmelina, and Marissa all deal with Brad’s loss in different ways…
< Read Chapter 16 | Read Chapter 18 >
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Chapter Seventeen
A Little Deathy
Marcos stared at the tortelli, sizzling on the cast-iron grill. They looked like raviolis, and they smelled delicious, tickling his senses with the combined aromas of the spicy sausage, olive oil, and the finely-chopped rosemary they’d decided to add to their own dish.
The kitchen suddenly went dark.
“That smells heavenly.”
Marcos blinked, looking around. He was surrounded by bright light, and next to him… He rubbed his eyes and blinked again. “Brad?”
His old friend laughed, his brown eyes twinkling. “Couldn’t take the last train outta town without saying goodbye.”
Marcos embraced him. “Oh my god, it’s so good to see you. You’re not…?”
“Dead?” Brad chuckled. “That’s a complicated question. I’m not… in my old body anymore, I suppose.”
“That’s pretty much the standard meaning of the word dead.” He looked around. Where did everyone else go? “Am I having a stroke?”
“No, you’re fine. But this is kind of weird, right?” He winced. “Not too thrilled to have reached the end of my time here. I was expecting to have another twenty, thirty years with Sam.”
Ghost then. Totally normal. Move along, nothing to see here. “I know.” He assumed he and Dave still had decades together too, but who knew?
“Remember when we first met?” Brad’s warm brown eyes searched his.
“Yeah. In front of that old pizza place in the MARRS building. What was it called?”
“Urban Pizza?”
“Pizzeria Urbano!” It had been one of his favorite Midtown hangouts. “It closed a few years back.”
“Sorry to hear that. I always liked that place.” He rubbed his chin, seemingly lost in thought.
Marcos stared at his friend. “Shouldn’t you be imparting the secrets of life to me, or something?” I really am losing my mind, expecting a ghost to offer me pearls of wisdom.
Brad shrugged. “I don’t know. No one gave me a manual for this.” He stared at Marcos. “Are you all right, my friend? You seem a little haggard.”
Marcos considered his answer. “I don’t know. I did a stupid thing, and don’t quite know how to tell Dave.” Things were going to get bad, fast, and yet he felt paralyzed.
He reached out to squeeze Marcos’s shoulder, and he swore he could feel those warm hands. “Just tell him. He loves you. He’ll understand.” He started to waver, fuzzing a bit at the edges.
“You made a difference in so many lives.” Like the time he’d given Marcos the LGBT Center’s website job, when his landlord was this close to throwing him out for not paying his rent. “I just wanted you to know.”
Brad truly did look like a ghost now, transparent and wavy. Nevertheless, Marcos could make out the faint outlines of a smile. “Thank you.”
Then he was gone.
“…should probably take them off now. I don’t want them to burn.”
Marcos blinked, and then Dave was standing in front of him. “What?”
“The tortellis… tortellinis. Whatever they’re called. They’re going to burn.” Dave pointed at the grill. “You have the spatula.”
Marcos looked down at the utensil in his hand. “Oh, right. Sure. Thak you.” He gave Dave a quick peck on the cheek and turned back to the grill and pried the fried pasta squares off one by one, pyramiding them on a blue and yellow plate festooned with lemons.
“Are you okay?” Dave’s unconscious echoing of Brad’s question wasn’t lost on Marcos.
“I… yeah. Sorry. Just thinking about Brad.” Had that really been him? Or just my overactive imagination?
Dave hugged him from behind, nestling his chin against Marcos’s neck. “I know.”
“It’s just weird. like, I should be able to pick up the phone and call him. How is he not there?” He’d lost people in his life before, but mostly they’d been older, sick and infirm. It had been expected. Nothing about this felt expected.
“Let’s celebrate him today. That’s why we’re here, right?” Dave pecked him on the cheek from behind, and then let him go.
“Right.” He looked around the room. The others were all wrapping up their own dishes, with varying degrees of success. Carmelina’s, surprisingly, looked almost burnt.
He closed his eyes, and for just a moment caught a whiff of Brad’s Cool Water cologne. It made him smile.
Just tell him.
He’d do that. But not right now. Not today.
Today was for Brad.
#
Carmelina’s eyes were bigger than her mouth.
At least, that’s the excuse she gave herself for her towering platter of Tortelli alla Lastra that she and Daniele had prepared together. She wasn’t sure how it had happened… she must have unconsciously doubled the recipe, something she was in the habit of doing for her muffins, cookies, and croissants at Pane e Tulipini.
And worse than that, half of them were burned at the edges.
“No one will notice.” Daniele was arranging them carefully on the platter Gio had provided, artfully placing the worst specimens at the bottom of the pile.
Carmelina blushed. I’m a great cook. Everyone told her so. How had she let this dish get away from her? “You sure?” What’s wrong with me today?
The obvious answer was Brad, but that wasn’t the only thing.
“Certo, cara mia.” Daniele’s Italian accent melted her heart, just like always.
“Grazie, bello.” She gave him a quick kiss. Carmelina had been thinking about the strange letter and emails from Italy all morning. She’d agreed to go with Daniele to his cousin’s wedding—they’d be leaving in just four days—and she’d have the chance to sus out the mystery in person. But she also felt awful about it, because it meant she might miss Brad’s memorial ceremony. “Should we join the others?”
“I’ll carry the tortelli.” Everyone was gathering around the large round wooden table in the middle of the room—imported from Italy—to enjoy the spoils of their lesson. There were twelve chairs, enough for a couple from each cooking station. Two of those seats would be empty… one for Sam and one for Brad.
Daniele set their platter next to the others, amidst a smorgasbord of fresh-baked bread, a simple green salad with aglio e olio dressing, and a couple bowls of Diego’s city-famous marinara sauce for dipping.
In Italy, bread and salad would never be served with the first course, but when in Sacramento… She chuckled to herself, remembering how scandalized Diego had been when she had sprinkled shredded mozzarella on her pasta.
Everyone was silent as food was shuffled from platters onto plates. The aroma reminded her of her nonna’skitchen, when Carmelina had been a child. The heady smell of fresh-baked bread, the deeper scents of boiled tomatoes and pancetta, the light sparkles of rosemary and basil.
When plates were full, everyone just sat there, staring at one another. No one seemed to want to take the first bite.
“What is this, a wake?” Carmelina picked up her fork and dug in. Laughter spread around the table, lightening the mood. The tortelli were absolutely delicious, even the slightly-burnt ones.
“I remember,” she said around a mouthful of the little pasta dipped in marinara, “the first time I met Brad. It was the day Sam dragged him to class. We were making…” She scratched her temple. “Ravioli? Lasagna?”
“Zuppa.” Diego’s eyes twinkled.
“That’s right. Soup. It had raviolis in it?”
Diego shook his head. “Minestrone, with vegetables.”
“Well, fine. It was goddamned vegetable soup.” She glared at the table, daring anyone to gainsay her.
They all laughed instead.
Daniele touched her shoulder. “And Brad?”
She blinked. “Oh yes. I was going to say, it was for one of the classes he set up for kids from the Center. Like you, Marissa.”
Marissa nodded, eyes wet. “I remember.”
“Anyhow, about halfway through the lesson, he was stirring some marinara sauce just like this, and the pot belched up bright red tomato sauce all over his red shirt. I’d never before heard him curse, but that day he let out a blue streak like you wouldn’t believe. Including some choice words I hadn’t heard before, or since.”
Marcos nodded. “He was kind of buttoned-up, until something startled him or pissed him off. Then he could curse like an injured sailor.”
“What words?” Ben had a half-smile on his face. It made her heart soar to see it.
“I’ll tell you afterward. I wouldn’t want to soil any delicate ears.” Her pointed glance at Marissa and Ainsley made the table laugh again. “So here he was, shirt ruined, and it turns out he had a very important fundraising meeting with some guy from a big local real estate company—something about funding the Center’s HIV prevention programs for ten years. It was in half an hour, and Brad was in a panic.”
Diego nodded. “I remember. He tried to clean off the shirt at his station’s sink.”
“Which just made it worse. Then in walks this guy.” She pinched Daniele on the upper arm. “He’s dressed as sharp as the Pope—”
“You know the pope wears white robes, right?” Daniele’s tone said he didn’t mind the comparison.
“And Brad says, ‘take your shirt off.’ Like a command. And Daniele says—”
“At least buy me dinner first.”
The room exploded in laughter. That made Carmelina happy. Funerals and wakes were often depressing, life-draining affairs. Far better that they should be life-affirming, remembering the best parts of those you lost.
“And did he buy you dinner?” Dave winked at her.
“If they did, I don’t want to know about it.”
#
Marissa wiped the wetness from her eyes. You are such a blubbering idiot.
The others around the table were swapping stories about Brad. The funny things that he had done. The way he’d helped everyone, even to his own detriment. His kind laugh.
All she could think about was how he had come to the hospital that one night, after Justin had been beaten up, and had stayed there with them all night long. He’d always been there for his “kids,” whenever they needed him. I can’t believe he’s gone.
Ainsley reached over to squeeze her hand. She smelled of citrus and mint. “You okay?”
“Not really.” Brad had been a father figure to her, before Marcos had come into her life. When she’d run away from home and had been all alone, with no one else to turn to. “It’s not fair.” It came out as a hoarse whisper.
Ainsley squeezed her hand tighter.
What was I thinking, bringing her here? She didn’t know him. Marissa freed her hand to grab her napkin and wipe another tear from her cheek. What a fucked-up date this is. She’s never going to want to see me again.
Marcos was telling some story about Brad at the Center, something about a mixed-up lunchtime meeting and an exploding can of soda.
It made her think of the old LGBT Center building—the rickety, ancient purple Victorian house right on the railroad tracks that had been the home to the Center for so many years before they moved to their new digs on 20thStreet. That was gone now too, turned back into a private home.
It was as if a whole part of her life had just been wiped out in one fell swoop. Not since the pandemic, when she’d been locked up in her room at home for almost two years, had she felt so alone. Her stomach shuddered, and she tasted bile in her throat.
“I have to go.” Marissa scooted her chair back, the loud scrape making everyone look at her direction. She ran out the door, ignoring the surprised gasps of her friends. Brad’s friends.
She burst out into the rainy afternoon, slamming into a man wearing a trench coat and an old brown hat with a leather band. “Sorry!”
He grunted something in reply, and hurried away down the street. She closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh air, trying to calm her frayed nerves and rebellious stomach.
The door behind her swung open, and she halfway expected Marcos to come out after her again, just like he had done all those years ago, when she first came to Ragazzi.
“Hey.”
Marissa turned to find Ainsley standing there, staring at her. “Hey.”
They looked at each other for a moment as the rain resumed, pouring straight down out of the sky and closing off the rest of the world.
Marissa was the first to look away. “I’m sorry I brought you here. Lousy first date, huh?”
“So this was a date.” She flashed Marissa a half smile. “I’ve been on worse.”
Marissa laughed in spite of herself. “Worse than being taken to a wake for someone you didn’t know, and then your date bolting on you?”
Ainsley grinned, her teeth white in the semi-darkness of the storm. “Oh yeah. One time, this woman I had a crush on was an hour late, and then she got pissed off at me and dropped me off in the middle of nowhere, about an hour outside of town.”
“Ouch. How did you get home?” She would never have kicked the beautiful waitress out of her car. Or bed.
Ainsley pulled out her phone. “Uber. Though it took them forever to get out there. I was lucky I had cell service.”
Marissa managed a slight smile. Already her stomach was feeling better. “Okay then, here’s to your second worst date.”
“Cheers.” She met Marissa’s gaze again, her dark brown eyes searching. “You must’ve really loved him.”
Marissa nodded. She leaned back against the wall, protected from the rain by the wide awning. It seemed fitting that it was overcast today, as if even Mother Nature was mourning Brad’s death. “He took care of me when no one else would.”
“Tell me a little bit about him.” Ainsley eased back against the side of the building next to her, her hand sliding over to touch Marissa’s.
She thought about it for a moment. “He was kind. He used to be a Republican. I didn’t know that until recently… when he came to the center, everything changed for him. He saw his kids and… well, he never had any of his own, but he took in one of my friends when he needed it.” Come to think of it, she hadn’t heard from Justin in ages. She’d have to look him up.
“He sounds amazing.” Ainsley’s pinky finger slipped around her own, both their hands pressed against the dark wood siding.
Despite the myriad of emotions already running through her, a thrill ran up her spine. “Did you… want it to be a date?”
“I was kind of hoping.” Ainsley blushed.
“You don’t want to date me.” Her guilt came flooding back. “I’m a mess. I ruin everything I touch.”
“I don’t think that’s true.” Ainsley’s hand grasped hers, her palm warm and soft.
Marissa thought about Gio, just on the other side of the wall. What she’d done to him. “You should run, as far and fast as you can.”
“I’d rather do this.” Ainsley took her face in both of those warm, wonderful hands, and pulled her in for a kiss.
Marissa surrendered to it, heat flooding her, washing away all of her pain and regret. She kissed Ainsley back, wrapping her own hands around her back and pulling her close as the rain thundered down just inches away.
“You guys all right out here—oh!” Marcos popped his head out, took one look at them, and ducked back inside.
They laughed, and kissed again. And Marissa felt like she was flying.
When it was over, Ainsley leaned forward to touch her cold nose to Marissa’s. “So… second date? Maybe something a little less…”
“Deathy?”
“Yes, exactly that. A little less deathy next time.”
“Deal.” She still had her reservations. But Ainsley was like a drug she couldn’t resist.
“Come on. Let’s get back inside. That pasta’s not gonna finish itself, and I don’t know about you, but I’m still a starving student.”
Marissa followed her back into the restaurant, mouthing a silent thank you to Brad for looking out for her one last time. Wherever he might be.
< Read Chapter 16 | Read Chapter 18 >
Like what you read? if you haven’t tried it yet, check out book one, The River City Chronicles, here.